The Ace of Shadows

By Balakrishna Kamath

A suspicious phone call received in the Agra jail, and two articles written by a retired Brigadier in a Pakistan newspaper, stir up India's Internal Intelligence Agency. Yashwant Narayan Godbole, the Agency's ace sleuth, connects the dots to infer that these innocuous events point to a more sinister and diabolical plot by the ISI, Pakistan's Inter-Services Intelligence. Based on Godbole's hunch, the Agency jumpstarts Project Mantra – a secret operation that was lying in limbo for two years, following the mysterious disappearance of their undercover agent. The express objective this time is to neutralise the ISI's nefarious 'Mission BlackRock' that could otherwise have ominous internal and international ramifications for India.

Armed with only the sketchiest details, Godbole and his team of operatives face an uphill battle to unravel the enemy's plot. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking as fortunes swing back and forth for both parties. Long and tedious hours of surveillance, losing the quarry, picking up threads in different cities, long, hot and thrilling chases through the most unlikely of places make this a unique gambit. Clashes become inevitable, and the game turns perilous as the Agency's operatives pit their wits against the relentless ISI team.

Will Pakistan's military doctrine - 'bleed India with a thousand cuts', be able to inflict damage on the nation’s strategic interests? In this high-stake game of smoke & mirrors, who will emerge as 'The Ace of Shadows'?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Mar 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9789355590718

Balakrishna Kamath

Balakrishna Kamath is a retired Intelligence officer of a premier Intelligence agency of India. He is a recipient of the coveted national-level honours such as the Indian Police Medal and President's Police Medal. Although passionate about writing, being in Intelligence service, Kamath had no opportunity to write for the open media. It was only after he hung up his professional boots that he started writing, mainly fiction based on spy and intelligence operations. His first novel 'The Velvet Gloves', a thriller published in November 2018, was received well, and is being adapted into a web-series. With his first book, Kamath demonstrated his flair for telling stories on intelligence operations that can keep the reader spellbound.

Book preview

Preface

Espionage and counterespionage are two sides of the same coin. Yet, ordinarily, the so-called spine-chilling side of the espionage is what hogs the limelight. The counterespionage and counter-intelligence aspect fails to enthuse many, probably owing to the limited knowledge and exposure to the subject. The counterespionage operations are equally thrilling and just as lethal as the espionage operations can be. Basically, between the espionage and counterespionage operatives, it is always a cat and mouse game, both trying to get the better of the other.

When it comes to appreciating the essence of the espionage and counterespionage in our part of the world, there cannot be a better canvas than what the Indo-Pak rivalry has to offer. By a twist of fate, India and Pakistan sadly turned adversaries from birth in the year 1947. Consequently, every aspect of Indo-Pak relations is mired in rivalry – from political to social, economic to the military. Among the sworn enemies, the urge to know what the other is up to is so intense that intelligence and espionage become the natural tools to realise the goals. And wherever there is espionage, counterespionage springs up as a natural corollary.

Here, dwelling on an entirely fictional account, this book attempts to show how India’s counter-intelligence arm deconstructs and demolishes a lethal Pak undercover operation in India. Yashwant Narayan Godbole, the principal character of this story, was also the protagonist of the author’s first novel ‘The Velvet Gloves’.

The story is set in the November 1989 – February 1990 period, when the espionage and intelligence collection still overwhelmingly relied on human intelligence. In the Indian subcontinent, technology had barely made elementary inroads in espionage activities. None of the sophisticated gadgets in use today were available to the sleuths operating in that era to make their job easier. It used to be tough to communicate and execute the mission in total secrecy and remain unseen in that treacherous game. Getting back home safe and sound, was entirely another matter.

Prologue

16th September 1987

Ninety-two Thousand Rupees.

Two men indulging in suspicious activities and transacting in hawala money, were arrested in Agra. When questioned about the source of the funds, they claimed to be engaged in exporting garments to the Gulf countries and getting paid partially via banks and illegal hawala route to avoid taxes. Further investigations revealed that both the arrested men were Pak nationals staying unauthorised in Agra for some years. But their activities prior to this while in India raised no red flags with the police.

A week after their arrests, on 23rd September 1987, Damji Bhai Savla, a tailor in Agra, was also arrested for assisting the two Pak nationals. He worked for them for easy money and claimed to be unaware that they were Pak nationals.

Savla said that he was the son of Veerji Bhai Savla of Banni village in Kutch near the Indo-Pak border. He ran away from his remote village when he was only a nine-year-old boy. After wandering in various places, he was given shelter by a Muslim family in Bombay. As per Muslim practice, that family circumcised him, which he did not like. He left that family and moved to Bhopal, where he worked in a tailoring shop. He moved to many places, at last ending up in Agra. He never went back to his native village nor met any of his relatives. Some of the details Savla gave about his family, including his house address, were checked by the police, and found to be correct. The police also managed to get a copy of his family’s government-issued old ration card, in which Damji Savla’s name was mentioned. Savla’s father was no more, but one of his brothers confirmed that Savla had run away when he was young, and they had never heard from him. The family was so poor that none from the family showed any interest in traveling to Agra to see their long-missing family member. Finally, nothing incriminating came up in his background.

Both Pak nationals were convicted and jailed for five years for illegal stay, and unlawful money dealings. Damji Savla was jailed for three and a half years for his involvement in the unlawful activities of the Pak nationals.

Since the episode involved Pak nationals, the case raised red flags at India’s Internal Intelligence Agency responsible for counterintelligence and counter-terrorism operations, and they scrutinised details sought from the police. Operatives of the Opsint (The Agency’s primary operations arm) suspected that the ninety-two thousand rupees recovered from the two Pak nationals was meant to be delivered to someone in Delhi. Although the police probe did not throw up anything sensational, Opsint refused to write off the case. They had to know what the Delhi angle was. To keep their vigil on, Opsint asked for a report every month from the jail authorities in Agra, where the two Pak nationals and Savla were serving their jail term. Opsint wanted to know what the three prisoners did in jail and who came to meet or enquire about them.

For two years, there was nothing out of the ordinary. A local lawyer who had defended the Pak nationals during their trial made occasional enquiries about them, out of a sense of duty. The Pak Mission in Delhi had enquired once about the health and well-being of the two Pak nationals. On the other hand, no one ever came to enquire about Damji Savla.

For two years…

1

Bleed India with a Thousand Cuts

14th November 1989

Anand Kumar Das, the Field Superintendent and second-in-command of Opsint Unit, hurried to his boss, Verma’s chamber. It was 10 am. Usually meetings and discussions were held only in the afternoon, leaving the morning session free for the scrutiny and analysis of reports that poured in overnight from the Agency’s out stations spread over India. That day, however, was different.

Brijesh Verma, the Senior Commandant and Opsint head, did not waste time on pleasantries. Tell me, he said, before Das had time to settle into his chair.

Last evening, Verma had given Das photocopies of two newspaper articles published in Dawn in Pakistan on 1st and 10th November and asked that they discuss it in the morning. The articles were by Brigadier Sayyad Mansuri, who had retired from Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) a couple of years ago. Given Mansuri’s credentials, the Agency wanted to review the articles thoroughly. After all, some former officers had the tendency to reveal more than allowed while others had the penchant for boasting about the roles played by them which, more often than not, ended up providing glimpses into classified information. Therefore, Verma wanted Das to go through Mansuri’s articles with a fine-tooth comb. Verma had also given Das another file containing background information and analysis on Brigadier Mansuri’s personality.

Das placed the two newspaper articles, his notes, and Mansuri’s file on the table. Retirement has not softened Brigadier Mansuri’s anti-India stance, Das said. "He remains rabidly anti-India and subscribes to ISI’s favourite doctrine: bleed India with a thousand cuts. President Zia may be dead and gone, but the seeds of Islamisation and anti-Indianism that he sowed have taken deep root and are still flourishing. Mansuri, is after all, a product of the Zia establishment."

Anand, that is what I also noticed, Verma said.

"Now that the Soviets have withdrawn from Afghanistan and the war is over, the jihadis are free. Most in the Pak establishment want action in Kashmir on a big scale – which has happened. The situation in Kashmir is getting worse. Mansuri wants Pakistan to speed up the momentum even further. In this write up, he has forcefully argued and cryptically hinted that the stalled programmes need to be revived urgently." Das raised his fingers in the air to place quote marks around stalled programmes.

Verma nodded. He too had analysed the articles. In his article of 1st November, Mansuri was in favour of more actions to frustrate India. Maybe no one in the Pak establishment took note of his article, so his second article of 10th November had stronger language. He advocated reviving stalled programmes to gain a psychological edge in the tussle with India. The concern was that Mansuri was not an ordinary ISI officer. He was a veteran in the projects run by the ISI targeting India.

You see…, I am figuring out the background and timing of this writeup. Since Gorbachev took over as the General Secretary in 1985, the Soviets have been balking at the prolonged Afghan war, Verma said. "In fact, Pakistan saw it coming, and before the departure of the Soviets, the ISI wanted a piece of well-oiled machinery in place for operations against India. Pushed by Zia, ISI has been directing the mujahideen’s energies towards Kashmir. Word had trickled in that Mansuri was heading those efforts, and by early 1986, had plans to set up modules to hit important targets not just in Kashmir, but in the Indian heartland. If you remember, that was when we launched Project Mantra."

With the launch of Project Mantra, two separate ISI fostered groups in different locations had come into the Agency’s focus. Polaris, located in Meerut, was identified and pursued, but the other group, located near Bombay, was not. Suddenly, the trail went cold, and Polaris also vanished.

"Project Mantra has gone cold for the past two years, Das said. Although we detected some pugmarks, the trail did not lead anywhere."

"In the same vein, I guess Mansuri is also talking about stalled programmes. Maybe, Anand…, the programmes they planned in 1985 - 1986 were suspended for some reason. And then, Mansuri also retired in 1988."

"And maybe that is why Project Mantra has not been yielding results for us," Das said.

Probably so. Maybe now, they are in a position to restart the programme. There was a footnote to the second article saying that the concluding part of that article would be published the following day, Verma said.

Yes, I was going to ask you for a copy, Das said.

I’m waiting for it, too, Verma said. It still takes three days for the Pak newspapers to be delivered to us via our Dubai contact. We got the newspaper for 11th November. And nothing. No article the next day. I don’t think the third article will ever be published. I suspect after Mansuri’s second article on 10th November, ISI stepped in.

Das waited for Verma to continue.

"As soon as these two articles came to our notice, Divisional Head Ramachandran and I met twice. We are alerting Kailash Panth in Islamabad and asking him to task Blue Lancer. We know the constraints Blue Lancer faces, but we will wait for a report. I will keep you posted. Meanwhile…, we need to be prepared. I want you to take out the Project Mantra file, brush up and write up a note for me."

The concern in Verma’s words did not escape Das’s attention. Das nodded, gathered his files and left the room.

2

Opening Gambit

15th November 1989

Islamabad, Pakistan

The concluding part of the lengthy office note said - Task BL without delay.

Kailash Panth stared at the note, deep in thought. He could feel the urgency the note conveyed. He kept it aside and picked up the other envelope placed in the plastic tray for his attention. Since that envelope did not have official wax seals, it would be a routine matter. Panth opened it and found a recommendation from an official in Delhi. He wanted a visa to be issued to a Pak family who wanted to visit their relatives in Lucknow. Panth promptly signed and marked the paper to the head of the Visa Section. There were no more envelopes for him in the diplomatic bag that arrived from Delhi that day.

Panth was not an undercover agent secretly lurking in Islamabad. He was a Visa Officer at the Indian Mission assigned confidentially to work on an intelligence assignment. He had been posted to the Mission in December 1987 for Project Mantra. Instructions came directly from his boss, Brijesh Verma, Senior Commandant in India’s Internal Intelligence Agency.

Panth turned his attention to the note and the urgency of the instructions in it. He had carefully cultivated Blue Lancer facing grave odds. BL was not a high-profile source but was high enough for Project Mantra. The next scheduled contact with Blue Lancer was three weeks away. Till then, the mechanism for safe contact with BL would not be in place. Reaching out to BL in a hostile location and assigning a task at such short notice would be challenging. He had been operating under severe constraints. As an officer of the Indian Mission, he was under the scanner of the Pak security men.

Whenever anyone from the Mission stepped out, there was always the danger of the Pak security men trailing them. The phone lines of the Mission were also under observation by the Pak intelligence. Panth weighed his options. There was an arrangement to contact BL in the rarest of instances. Panth evaluated the risks methodically. BL was not comfortable receiving coded messages. BL lacked the patience to decipher encrypted messages. Despite the risks, he would have to use Rashid Ali, an emergency link between BL and him.

He picked up the note from the file. He kept a slightly thick semi-transparent plastic sheet over the note and made a photocopy. The note now looked a bit enlarged, blurred and shaded, but could be read. He trimmed away all the other parts of the note except the part containing the instructions for BL. The only cryptic mention in that trashy looking piece of paper was ‘crow’, which BL could understand as the one on whom coverage was sought. He opened a cupboard and took out a few Pak currency notes and two envelopes: one cream coloured and the other light brown. He kept the trimmed portion of the instructions in the cream envelope and the currency notes in the light brown one. He sealed both envelopes and kept them in his bag.

It was only four o’clock. Another thirty minutes before the Mission closed for the day. Leaving thirty minutes early would be out of his routine and might raise the enemy’s eyebrows. He did not want to attract the attention of the Pak intelligence men keeping vigil outside the Mission and have them trail him. Already Panth was one among the six Mission staff who attracted extra interest from the watchers. He picked up that day’s English language newspaper The Nation, to kill time. He found an analytical writeup on the Tiananmen Square protests that took place earlier that year in June. But he could not concentrate on the article.

As the clock ticked to four-thirty, an anxious Panth took a deep breath, picked up his bag and locked his cabin. After putting the cabin key in a small envelope, he sealed it with adhesive and handed it over to the duty officer. The officer applied molten wax and sealed the envelope with the official brass seal. Panth signed the envelope and deposited the sealed key with the officer.

In the parking lot, Panth opened the boot of his car and picked up a jute basket and a small cloth bag that he used to shop for fruits and vegetables on his way home. After settling in the driver’s seat, he opened his bag, and placed the two envelopes at the bottom of the jute basket. He covered the envelopes with an old newspaper.

As Panth drove out of the Mission gate and entered the lane connecting Street 4, he spotted the Pak watchers at their regular hangout. Often the trailing became what was known as ‘bumper-to-bumper surveillance’, without any pretension of secrecy – the objective being to ensure that the Indians knew they were under the scanner. As he was about to turn to Constitution Avenue, he looked at the rear-view mirror and saw a steel-grey Ford car a short distance behind him. Apart from the driver, there was another person in the car. At the World Chowk when he took a turn to Khayanban-e-Suhrwardy, the Ford followed suit. Panth realised the watchers were going to follow him that day. This was why he loathed unscheduled meetings with his contacts. Until the watchers were sure that he was indeed going home, they would follow him.

Panth stuck to his regular route at the posted speed limit. Al Habib Market was about six kilometres and a fifteen-minute drive from the Mission. Rashid Ali, Panth’s conduit to BL, owned a vegetable shop in Al Habib Market, where Panth shopped for fruits and vegetables ever since he was posted to the Indian Mission. Rashid was a middle-aged Shia Muslim from the Pak occupied Gilgit province. The arrangement with Rashid had been in place for over one year and his remuneration reached him every month in a light brown envelope, irrespective of whether his services had been used. Rashid knew what he had to do whenever a cream coloured or usual ‘Avion’ printed envelope was delivered to him.

Before the 7th Avenue junction, Panth turned right and took the service road towards Street 55. The Ford followed him. Street 55 got more and more crowded, and his car slowed to a crawl. The market was on Street 53 and Panth could take a side lane to get to that street faster. But the watchers might suspect that he was taking the narrow lane to dodge them. So, he continued on Street 55 up to Street 53 and reached the market at four-fifty. In the waning daylight, shops in the market had begun switching on their lights.

After parking his car, Panth picked up the jute basket and the cloth bag. He also carried his official bag instead of leaving it behind in the car. The Ford had parked a little distance away from his car. While the driver was still in the car, his companion was not there. Predictably, he had slipped out to trail Panth.

Sauntering through the market, Panth went to a fruit store. He purchased apples and put them in the cloth bag. He walked to a dry fruits shop which was only a few feet from Rashid Ali’s vegetable shop. From there he could check if Rashid was available at his shop. To Panth’s utter dismay, Rashid was nowhere to be seen. Rashid’s teenage son was attending to customers. Where was Rashid? Had he taken a day off? Or was he unwell? Panth cursed his luck.

"Saheb, you want something?" the shopkeeper asked.

Oh yes, wanted almonds and raisins… give me these medium-sized pouches, Panth muttered.

As Panth paid the bill and kept the pouches in his cloth bag, he kept glancing at Rashid’s shop. Rashid was still nowhere to be seen. His mind raced. It was imperative that he meet Rashid that day. With the Pak watchers always at his back, he could not visit the market on two consecutive days. How was he to task BL without delay?

Panth stepped out of the dry fruits shop, when he spotted Rashid chatting with another shopkeeper a few shops away. He let out his breath in an audible whoosh. He now needed an excuse to linger until Rashid returned to his shop. He saw a sweet-meat shop serving hot milk and an assortment of sweets. Pretending that the November chill had got to him, Panth gave an involuntary shiver and ordered a glass of hot milk topped with cream at the sweet-meat shop. He settled down at a table, keeping Rashid in his line of vision.

Before Panth could finish his glass of milk, Rashid returned to his shop. Panth forced himself to empty his glass, though he fretted that the milk was too hot. He should have better bought a sweet meat. Instead of rushing to Rashid’s shop, Panth strolled to a vegetable shop next to Rashid’s shop. He picked up a bottle gourd, examined it and put it back as if he had changed his mind. He then purchased a cauliflower and put it in the jute basket. Finally, he moved on to Rashid’s shop. Rashid was attending to a customer. Panth examined the tomatoes and brinjals. After the other customer paid and left, Panth asked Rashid to give him one kilogram of both the vegetables. He also selected a medium-sized bottle gourd and asked Rashid to weigh that too. He then handed over the jute basket across the counter, and they made brief eye contact. A signal sent. A signal received. No word spoken.

Rashid placed the basket on the floor behind the counter, out of view from the people outside the shop. After weighing the bottle gourd, he bent down to put it in the basket. Deftly, he removed the two envelopes and shoved them under the counter. He weighed the tomatoes and brinjals and put them in the basket. He handed the basket across the counter along with the bill on a piece of paper. Panth paid for the vegetables and took the basket. He wandered around the market for a few more minutes before heading back to his car.

On the drive back home, Panth was relieved to see that the Ford was still following him. It meant that the watchers had not suspected anything. Panth turned into the lane to his apartment. The watchers drove on straight. But he knew they would park the Ford and wait to ensure that he had gone into his apartment.

This was only the opening gambit. Standing under the shower at the end of this nerve-racking day, Panth knew tense times lay ahead.

3

The Creator

1st to 25th December 1989

The majestic trees lining both sides of Mahal Lane in North Delhi had started shedding their leaves. The cold morning breeze caressed the fallen dry leaves and gently scattered them over the deserted lane and footpath.

Yashwant Narayan Godbole reached the staff gate of his office in Gayatri Mahal complex that housed the all-important Opsint Unit of India’s Internal Intelligence Agency. In the quiet surroundings of the forested Kamala Nehru Ridge area, far removed from the main roads and crowded marketplaces, Gayatri Mahal had a timeless charm. Godbole parked his Vespa scooter in his assigned area. He pulled off his gloves one finger at a time and removed the woollen muffler he had draped around his neck to protect him from the chill while riding. Under the watchful eye of the Security Officer, Godbole made an entry in the staff-register and walked towards the office building. His footsteps on the cobbled pathway noisily crumpled the fallen dry leaves creating an unease in him.

A full week had passed since he had submitted a confidential report to his boss, Anand Kumar Das. The report detailed his observations after a five-day tour to Agra. Never before in his service of nine years had Godbole put forth his line of thinking in a project as sensitive as Project Mantra. Godbole sensed a new angle which he believed would revive the deadlocked Project Mantra. He knew he was seen only as a budding field operative, not yet mature enough to formulate strategies. But he had hoped that Das would call him in to discuss his report further. That had not happened.

Climbing the wooden stairs to his first-floor office, Godbole walked towards his office cabin, which he shared with four other colleagues. Pushing open the snap-shutting door labelled ‘Restricted Entry’, Godbole entered his room. The old electric heater in one corner of the cabin was already at work. Godbole hung his jacket and muffler on the backrest of his wood chair. As part of his daily routine, he took a piece of cloth from the nearby wood rack and dusted and wiped the top of his desk. When he turned to return the cloth to the rack, he noticed his colleague, Amit Rao, already at work at his desk.

As their glances met, Rao said, Good morning, Yash. You seem lost in your thoughts!

Godbole smiled and said, Good morning, Amit. Didn’t notice you. You are early today. Anything special?

Rao tapped the open file on his desk, indicating he was busy with it.

Godbole sat down and scribbled a request for a meeting on a note sheet. He handed over the note to Das’s secretary in her cubicle and requested that it be sent to Das. He returned to his cabin and